Richard prowled the embassy, frightening the maids and growling at footmen. Only the boy who cleaned the steps found him amusing.
“Sunny day, Lord English,” the boy said. “Good day for walk.”
I haven’t slept, Lily refuses to see reason, and Liston refuses to petition Sahin Pasha. Why should I care about the day? He spun on his heels, went back in, and slammed the door. In the reverberating sound of the slamming door, a second thought struck him.
Why not a walk—to the wharf perhaps? What harm would it do to leave a calling card for Sahin Pasha?
Moments later, hat on head and cane in hand, he went back out the door. The cane, with its cleverly concealed sword, normally sat in Liston’s private office. He took it without qualms. It serves him right for avoiding me all afternoon.
“Best not get lost,” the boy told him when he ran down the steps. “I can show you where you want to go. I know everything.”
Richard ignored him. He gripped the cane, glad for its support. I’m not a total fool.
“Getting late, Lord English! Best not go far,” the boy shouted after him.
After the second wrong turn, he wished he’d taken the boy for a guide. After a third, he thought he had his bearings, but light faded and he dared not retrace his steps through the maze of streets. He peered downhill through a narrow passage to see golden light at the far end. The docks are all downhill. From there I can pay someone to take me back to the embassy. What a fool’s errand!
He gripped the sword cane tightly and started down the narrow passage. After he passed one heavy wooden door and then another, he reached the halfway point. Below him, a tall turbaned figure turned into the passage, briefly blocking the light. Richard could see a small person covered with veils behind him followed closely by another tall man.
A wealthy woman and her guards, he supposed. Those bruisers won’t look kindly on a foreigner blocking her way.
Caught in the narrow passage, he would have to go back or push himself against the wall. Before he could formulate a response, the farthest man fell like a rock, a door opened in front of the trio, and a swarm of dark figures spewed out.
Richard could see the taller guard under attack from at least three men; the woman needed help. He ran toward the attack when hands reached out to grab her. Sprinting downhill, he saw her twist to escape and run toward her first guard. Her veils fell away.
Lily! What on earth?
Richard ran faster; icy fear and blood red rage drove him downhill into Lily’s attackers. The remaining bodyguard blocked his way. The man wrestled with three of them, knife slashing, arms straining. Richard’s sword found one attacker, but another took his place. They seemed to multiply in the dark.
Brief snatches of Lily appeared behind the melee. He could see flowing ribbons of bright green silk ripple and jerk. He struggled to focus on the attackers. He felled one attacker with an uppercut that would make Jackson proud, but another blocked him.
Concentrate. You’re no good to her dead.
Lily’s screams tore at him, and he fought like an animal. The guard went down at last, a dagger in his ribs. Over his body Richard saw a hood go over Lily’s head, muffling her screams. He pulled his attention back a moment too late. Searing pain exploded in his head, and he fell forward into darkness.
The voice Richard longed to hear all day came to him in the dark. It must be a dream.
A moment later hands attached to the dream began prodding him in places that hurt like the devil. “Richard! Damn it, wake up.”
Lily?
“Did you have me kidnapped? Those men could have injured me, you insane man.”
Don’t be an idiot. How could Lily believe that, even in a nightmare?
Cool hands pushed his hair from his brow. Not my head; it hurts like hell itself.
“Please wake up. Don’t die on me. Please don’t die and leave me alone with these men.”
Men—Lily! The shot of memory sent him bolt upright. The pain in his head put him back down with a groan. His eyes flickered open and blinked twice to clear.
Lily’s face, deep in shadow, came close, concern marring it. “Not so fast,” she said. “I think they hit you very hard.”
“They nearly took my head off,” he groaned.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t waken,” she said, her voice sounded wet with tears.
“I have a hard head,” he reassured her. Memory flickered. “I thought I heard you a moment ago. Did you really accuse me of having you kidnapped?”
“Maybe.” She sounded guilty. “But that wouldn’t make sense. You wouldn’t harm the baby. I know you wouldn’t.”
“Is he—” He tried to rise again but she pushed him back down.
“She’s fine. I’m fine, for now at least.”
“I would never hurt you either, Lily.”
Did she just sniff?
“I thought you had left us.”
“I’m here,” he said, looking around. He could see little in deepening darkness. “Where ever ‘here’ is. Is there no light, or are my eyes failing?”
“No windows, and I fear night has fallen.”
He could see her in outline, one shadow darker than the rest of the room.
“Do you have any idea where we are?”
She shook her head. “They hooded me. They pulled off the hood and pushed me in the door before I got a good look. We can’t have gone far from the quay because two of them carried me here.”
“From the feel of my back, I was dragged.”
“Possibly. A few moments after they left me here, they opened the door and dropped you on the floor.”
Richard felt along his sides. “Stone floor. No wonder I’m cold. Help me to sit.”
He cried out in pain when Lily put an arm under his shoulders, but he pushed himself forward. She helped him feel his way to the wall. He sagged against it and pulled her close with one arm, savoring her warmth.
“No furniture?”
“Nothing. An empty room. I’m not even sure it is a room exactly.” She put one arm around his waist and lay her head against his shoulder. He could feel the swell of the growing child by his side. He forced himself not to shudder. Don’t give in to fear now. It won’t help her.
“Tell me what you saw. Tell me what you heard.” He fought back waves of pain and focused his mind on what mattered. Lily. Danger. The baby. Our baby.
“I heard nothing until the attack,” she said. He heard her gulp. When she spoke again, her voice sounded thick. “I turned on a sound and saw the guard—that poor man—they cut his throat. My fault. I insisted on coming even though Sahin warned me.”
“Hush, hush.” Time for recrimination later. “What next?”
“I tried to run, but they grabbed at me from behind, and more of them attacked—” She swallowed convulsively. “Oh God! They killed Ahmet. He was my friend.”
He could hear rising panic from the memories she voiced.
“Concentrate on details.” He tightened his arm around her.
“Attackers wore black, but you must know that. I saw you. You ran down the passage like a madman.”
Like a fool right into their hands. If I had stopped to think I might have been able to—what? He didn’t know. “It was not my finest hour,” he said.
“You were magnificent.”
Her praise gave him courage. I have to get Lily out of here.
“I don’t feel magnificent. What else do you remember? Did you hear their voices?”
“Not well. The hood muffled sound. Some Turkish and something else—Arabic perhaps. I heard an odd word or two of Russian, ‘woman’ and ‘money.’”
“Volkov.”
“Perhaps. They didn’t talk to me. They just put me here. I called for help. I called
for light. I called to demand their names. I heard nothing until they brought you in.”
“What did you see when the door opened?”
“Not much. This space is tiny. I think it is a storage closet.”
No room. No weapons. No light. Richard let out a groan of frustration. No strength either. He cursed loudly.
The door swung open.
“Such language in front of a lady!” A disembodied voice mocked him in heavily accented English. Light from a lantern in the hands of the man in the doorway blinded Richard.
“The lady and the marquess. What a delightful, unexpected bonus.”
Chapter 28
Volkov stepped into the room and lowered the lantern. Lily saw his face illuminated from below, a leering mask of pure evil. When she began to shake, Richard’s arm tightened on her shoulder, and she moved closer.
Other figures huddled in the doorway. She could just make out two or three faces, avid and alive with curiosity.
“What a disgusting little family tableau,” Volkov sneered. “You’ve disappointed me, Lilias.”
Disappointed?
“I had so looked forward to renewing our intimate acquaintance.” He tilted his head as if considering her. Lily gagged back her rising gorge. “I thought if you pleased me particularly well we might postpone your punishment.”
Richard lunged forward. A brutal kick to his shoulder pushed him back against Lily.
“Do control the marquess, Lilias. My ‘assistants’ aren’t particularly careful, and I would much prefer that he die slowly.”
“You want me, Konstantin, not Glenaire. Let him go.”
“Touching. I presume he is responsible for your interesting condition? He really ought to pay for that. What will your dear Papa think of all this? Perhaps I should act in his stead since he is nowhere to be found.” He put a finger to his lips as if considering something.
“I owe him for your papa’s disappearance also, don’t I? My men tracked him to Copenhagen but lost him. Did you know that?”
Papa, what did you do? Any relief that Volkov had failed to find her father faded under his current threat.
“This marquess of yours also made life difficult in London.” He kicked Richard’s ribs. “Yes, I owe this one quite a bit.”
“The question is what to do with you? I discovered your destination by sheer luck from an encounter on Malta. I paid dearly to be told when you left the Seraglio.” He laughed, an ugly miserable laugh. “Not enough perhaps. I had not counted on finding you with another man’s bastard. I truly hate taking someone else’s leavings.”
Lily had no warning when he yanked her arm with his free hand and pulled her up.
“No!” she screamed.
Richard fell sideways. She could see him try to rise from the corner of her eye. Volkov yanked her forward with his left hand. The lantern in his right swung ominously. The thought of her flowing veils catching fire caused her to yank instinctively on Volkov’s hand. She batted at the lantern with her free hand and knocked it against Volkov.
“Damned whore, you’ll pay for this!” Volkov shouted when fire singed his jacket. He dropped Lily and the lantern, plunging them into darkness. Lily scooted back into the farthest corner she could find.
In the light of a flickering torch hastily brought up to the entrance by one of Volkov’s minions, she saw Volkov swing around to her with murder in his eyes and step forward. Behind him, Richard rose to his knees and staggered upright.
A tall man dressed, unlike his fellows, in a short jacket and loose trousers shouted from the door at Volkov who ignored him and kept coming toward Lily. The man snapped his fingers. Someone grabbed Volkov’s shoulder and pulled him back. They shouted in a stream of Turkish, Russian, and other languages. Richard seized the opportunity to move in front of Lily.
“That man told Volkov we’re too valuable to damage,” Lily whispered in his ear. “He spoke Russian, if poorly.”
Two of the men in black subdued Volkov, one holding either arm. They joined the argument with Volkov and then began to argue among themselves.
“It isn’t quite Arabic or Turkish either. I think I hear Berber, at least when they speak between one another,” she told him. She felt him stiffen.
Volkov ordered them to let him go. “It is none of your business who these people are. They belong to me,” he shouted. They spat in his face.
“They’re saying he failed to pay them!” Lily exclaimed. Astonishment momentarily banished fear.
The tall man at the door crowded into their prison carrying a torch. He flicked a brief glance at Lily and Richard, but he saved his contempt for Volkov.
“He’s listing unpaid bills,” she said thickly. She clung to Richard’s back.
“Bills for?”
“Murder, beatings, across Greece. Hazard pay for coming into Constantinople itself, I think. He says they grow weary and will take the prize for payment.” Lily felt a surge of hope. “What prize?”
“Us. We’re the prize.” Richard cursed quietly.
Her hope faded. “Who are these people?”
“Corsairs, most likely.”
Hope died. Lily’s heart stuttered. “Corsairs?”
“Barbary Pirates.”
A swift blow from the flat of a scimitar quieted Volkov. He hung limp and unconscious between his two captors. Richard spared him no pity. The corsairs tossed the Russian to the floor and began to strip him systematically until he lay naked and unmoving on the cold stone floor.
The tall man with the torch shone his light on Richard and shoved him sideways to have a better look at Lily. He reached over to lift a lock of her hair where it hung in disarray on her shoulder.
“Don’t touch her.” Richard shouted. He extended a hand to stop the man and got a slap across the face for his trouble. The blow snapped his head back and threw him into the wall.
The man moved his light closer to Lily; he examined her face and hair with meticulous care. He spoke to her in Russian. She answered in Turkish.
“What did he say?” Richard asked through swollen lips.
“Not Turkish,” Lily answered without taking her eyes from their captor. “I assured him I am not.”
“English,” the man said, his speech heavily accented but perfectly clear. “Both?”
In the dim light, Richard could see her pulse pound in her neck, but she stood tall and did not look away from the man.
“Both of us, yes,” Lily told the man. Her courage strengthened Richard’s.
Behind their tormentor, the two black-clad guards finished trussing Volkov hand and foot. One hefted his purse and laughed. Gold flashed in the hand of other man, the bigger of the two. The bigger man had thrown back the mask that covered his face in the passageway. Richard could see the deep scar that marked the right side of his face from brow to chin and the smaller scar across his lips that gave him a perpetual sneer.
Scarface stuffed the gold ring in his robes and strode over to where Richard and Lily stood. He shot Richard a contemptuous look, grabbed Lily by the hair, and pulled out a curved dagger.
“Don’t touch her,” Richard shouted helplessly just before a blow to his midsection from the third man crumpled him to the floor. The two captors argued over Lily in a language he didn’t understand while the third relieved him of his jacket and began to finger it as if assessing its value.
He struggled to his knees and looked up into Lily’s eyes, eyes wide with terror. When he tried to stumble forward, the man who had removed his jacket, who appeared to be the younger of the three, twisted his arm up above his shoulder.
“Lily,” Richard called through a haze of pain, “what are they saying?”
Her answering voice wavered, the sound coming thin and reedy. “The one with scars says a pregnant woman is wor
th nothing and I will slow them. He wants to—”
A loud scream from Volkov cut her off. He rolled and struggled against his bonds, unleashing a torrent of invective, drawing all eyes to him.
The older man, the one Richard began to pray was the leader, shouted at him in Russian. Volkov shouted back. All three laughed, and the oldest spat some words.
“What are they saying?” Richard demanded, gasping for breath.
“Volkov called them filthy names and demanded that they follow his orders. This man called him ‘yazychnik’ and ordered him to be silent or—”
“Or what?”
“Or they will slit his throat.”
Volkov opened his mouth as if to speak again, but only a gurgling sound came out. Scarface picked up Volkov’s torn shirt, sliced it with his dagger in one swoop, and gagged him with it.
“Yazychnik sounds Russian.” Richard whispered. “What does it mean?”
“Infidel,” she answered on a breath.
As if at her word, Scarface turned on his heel, but before he could approach Lily again, the older man barked an order, and they began to strip Richard as they had Volkov. Scarface pulled his right hand so hard he thought his arm might leave its socket. He began to pull at Richard’s signet ring.
Richard pulled back and started to object, but Scarface took his dagger and threatened to cut off the finger with the ring. Richard forced himself to relax. His grandfather’s ring with its intaglio coat of arms carved on a perfect sapphire disappeared into Scarface’s robes.
The younger man began to bind Richard’s hands. Scarface moved toward Lily, baring his teeth and spitting one word in her face. “Kafir.”
Dangerous Weakness Page 18